


The 'How We Got Together' Story

by bishounen_curious



Series: volleyball dads [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drunken Kissing, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Underage Drinking, a gentle hint of teen angst, and so is the karasuno volleyball team, i am trash, slight hazing, volleyball dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3800935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishounen_curious/pseuds/bishounen_curious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though it wasn’t an ideal ‘how-we-got-together’ story, Suga still was thankful that they even had one of those stories to tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 'How We Got Together' Story

**Author's Note:**

> alcohol is rad but using it safely is even radder
> 
> (i’m not an enabler i swear)

“Yo, Suga are you coming to Asahi’s house after practice?” Nishinoya asked between noisy gulps from his water bottle.

Suga shook his head, wiping his towel over his sweaty neck. “No. I’m not.”

“Aww, c’mon! Why not? Everybody’s going!”

“Well, Daichi and I-“

Clarity sparked on the shorter boy’s face. “Oh, yeah. I forgot it was your date night.” Nishinoya just nodded knowingly, like he was saying inside his head _oh duh of course it is_ and took one last drink of his water before setting it back down on the bench. 

The setter chuckled. “You keep track?”

“Dude,” the libero smirked, and clapped the third year on the shoulder, “every first Friday of the month is volleyball dad date night. Of course we keep track: there’s a strict no ‘kids’ policy.” With a laugh and a military-esque salute, Nishinoya jogged back onto the court where the rest of the team was running a receiving drill.

Suga smiled. _Volleyball dad date night._ He liked the sound of that. He wondered if Daichi knew about that. That little name. He probably didn’t, to be honest. If he did, he would have already sent out an angry message in the team’s groupme to never use that term ever again.

Suga laughed before he returned to the court, joining the rest of his teammates.

___

Suga loved their date night. Or volleyball dad date night. Or whatever it was called. It was his favorite thing in the whole world. It was a special night where he got to spend time with Daichi alone. They always did something really nice, always a proper date activity (Daichi always saw to that). Sometimes they went out to dinner, or cooked dinner at one of their houses. Some nights they just popped in a movie, or went out to see one. On lazy evenings they just talked over a bottle of wine. Or, if both of them were in the mood, which happened (thankfully) frequently, they locked themselves in one of their bedrooms for a couple of hours. All and any of those things were great.

It was just great, and Suga wouldn’t change it for anything. He was sure Daichi wouldn’t either.

They started this ritual awhile ago, at the end of their first year of high school. Funnily enough, it wasn’t Suga or Daichi that had suggested starting these date nights. It was Asahi, actually. _Kind of._ He was the one that, really, that got them to date in the first place.

That memory always amused Suga. Both of them had been so _dumb_. 

He and Daichi had kind of been a thing since the beginning of their first year. Not a thing in the sense of a romantic relationship. It had been a bit complicated. It took them a year to make it official, with the help of their friend. 

It was only slightly complicated, and really, more dumb.

When they met through volleyball, they immediately became friends. Two fifteen-year-old-boys, dreaming about going to nationals with a team they could rely on. Two lanky, still in the throes of puberty fifteen-year-old-boys that still hadn’t full grown into their bodies yet. 

Over the course of a few weeks, or days to be frank, they’d become best friends. It went beyond volleyball, especially when they started to spend time together outside of practice and matches. The duo did everything together: eat lunch, walk home, do homework, practice outside of practice. It was just natural. They were just really compatible: similar interests, ideas, dreams. 

Back then, all those years ago, they knew that their compatibility stretched beyond friendship. They both knew that all too well. But, like most fifteen-year-old closet cases with no prior experience with any serious romantic endeavor, they didn’t initially act on it. No, they didn’t breathe a word about it.

Then the captain of the team hosted the first party of the year. And that was the first time both Suga and Daichi both had their very first experience with alcohol.

People say that alcohol gives you a false sense of confidence: it makes you brave. It makes you affectionate and silly. It makes you do and say things you never would have the balls to do sober. And, as Tanaka put it so eloquently awhile back, it makes you just want to make out with everybody.

At their first party, a month into the beginning of the school year, an incident occurred. It occurred because the upperclassmen had come into the possession of a low-grade bottle of tequila. That week they had defeated a rival team in the district in a particularly difficult and heated practice match. So, with a salt shaker, a bag of half-priced limes, and a yolo attitude they all decided they would do some celebratory shots at the captain’s house that Friday night. 

Tanaka also said, when he was told of this particular incident a year later at his first Karasuno party, that “Well, whiskey makes you frisky, brandy makes you randy and tequila does make your clothes fall off.”

And he was more or less right. 

___

“Three, two, one, shot!” 

Following the rest of the team, Suga and Daichi licked the salt off the juncture between their forefinger and thumb and threw back another tequila shot. 

It was their fifth or sixth one in something like a half hour. And neither of them had eaten any dinner beforehand because they had both been too nervous and giddy about going to their first party ever. 

The team was still going strong so Daichi and Suga were too. Plus, they didn’t quite know their limits yet and they didn’t want to look like dorks in front of their senpais. Like most fifteen-year-olds, they were dumb.

Suga and Daichi were looking at one another with their whoozy, _i’m having so much fucking fun eyes_. They were both still sucking on their lime wedges. For some reason, probably because he was getting drunk very quickly, Suga thought it would be funny if he wiggled his eyebrows at his friend. 

Daichi, because he also was getting drunk very quickly, thought that stupid little gesture was hysterical, literally the funniest thing he had ever seen. So naturally he burst into a fit of giggles, which triggered Suga into one as well, and in no time neither of them could breathe from all the laughter. Their lime wedges were spit onto the floor, which was beginning to get filthy from both discarded lime wedges, spilt salt and tequila.

It was just another high school party.

They had ended up hugging each other because that obviously was a way to stop the giggles. Everybody knew that. Duh.

Daichi rested his head on his ashen-haired friend’s shoulders (because back then he was actually a couple of centimeters shorter than Suga). His breath was short and staccato and still trying to regulate. Suga’s arms had snaked around Daichi’s torso and hugged him tightly, still giggling himself. It took awhile to calm down from laughing at something that wasn’t even that funny.

It was the first time either of them had gotten fucked up, after all.

“Tequila’s gross.” Daichi slurred those words into Suga’s neck. Suga hummed in agreement, still not letting go of his friend. He was warm, and he also was quite warm, and it just felt super nice.

“But,” Daichi continued, smiling a big stupid grin into the other’s neck, “I like being drunk.”

“Yeah.” Suga agreed after a moment. “It feels good.”

“Yeah… like, it’s good. Just good, y’know?” Daichi lifted his head and gave a big whoozy smile. His eyes were aimed at Suga’s, but they were drifting away, unable to focus for more than five seconds on something so close without serious effort. Suga snickered. Daichi looked so stupid. 

The two of them just looked at each other. Half laughing, unable to concentrate, in their own worlds, really. The rest of the team was focused on prepping for another shot, but the two of them weren’t though. They were just standing together, leaning on one another, smiling. The periphery of their vision was blurring and softening, but each other’s faces were slightly more in focus. Their grins were wide and their faces were flushed from the alcohol.

“Hi. Daichi said.

“Hi.” Suga said, looking at his best friend’s eyes. Then, his eyes had started to drift (either from his inability to focus on something for too long or because he had other plans) and fixated on the brunette’s mouth. Both of them stared and smiled at one another for a moment too long. Both of them, despite their warped judgment, knew it was slightly uncomfortable. But it was okay.

It was good. 

What happened next is a little foggy for the both of them to this day. Neither of them could remember exactly how it happened, just only that it in fact _did_ happen. What they knew definitely was that one of them, or both of them who knows, starting inching closer to one another, eyes slowly shutting. Then, eventually, their mouths were touching in what was an uncoordinated, slightly off-centered first kiss for both boys.

Apparently the rest of the team hadn’t noticed that two of their first years were not part of the group blob anymore. They had done another shot and turned up the volume on their _Karasuno Don’t Play, Get Off the Court if You Can’t Handle the Swag_ playlist before someone happened to spot them in the corner of their eye. By the time someone caught sight of them, Suga was unsuccessfully and desperately trying to rip off Daichi’s t-shirt as the two of them sloppily, and with apparent inexperience, made-out in the middle of the room.

“Yo, check out Sawamura and Sugawara!” 

“It’s about fucking time!!!”

After the attention was diverted from the emptying tequila bottle, a chant of _take it off! take it off!_ erupted. Maybe it was the general insobriety of the group, but the obnoxious chanting seemed to spur the two usually-reserved teens on. Suga broke away first. Clumsily, his hands groped around the brunette’s chest until he eventually remembered that _oh yeah you gotta get both arms and your head through a shirt to take it off_. Then after throwing the shirt away and onto the even-filthier-than-before floor, he practically fell forward into Daichi in what was another kiss, either by choice or by the fact that he had trouble keeping balanced. Daichi this time tangled his hands in Suga’s hair and touched the back of his neck (which was super warm and sweaty) and tried to figure out what felt right based on the way he saw people kiss in the movies.

Suga, if he wasn’t so sloshed, would have come to realize a lot sooner that he was pretty vocal when he felt good. He moaned and gasped and whimpered the whole time, blissfully unaware that he was even making any sounds in the first place. Whenever a new part of him was touched, he practically vibrated with happiness and pleasure. Daichi on the other hand, was fairly quiet, except when Suga dragged his fingernails down his bare arms and it caused him to physically and vocally shudder. If Daichi was more sober, he would have come to realize a lot sooner that he really liked to be scratched, especially on his arms. But c’est la vie.

“Daichi,” Suga giggled, unsteady on his feet, trying to place his lips onto the other’s ear but struggling to find the coordination to do so. “We’re kissing.”

Daichi laughed along with all the guys on the team. They were watching the two first years unabashedly. Volleyball party hookups were always entertaining, apparently. “Yeah.” His goofy grin dimmed a bit, and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah…” he repeated, and this time he bent down to start mouthing wet kisses on the slightly taller boy’s neck. When Suga’s laugh melted into a shuddery breath, Daichi felt himself shudder too.

“Suga,” Daichi’s tongue dragged a stripe up the other’s neck and latched his teeth onto his earlobe. “Wanna go somewhere?”

“Where?” He was breathing hard.

“Bathroom?”

“‘Kay.” 

Suga was the one who grabbed the other’s hand. He then, still wobbly, dragged the brunette towards the bathroom. Their teammates _oooooooh’d_ loudly, and the two first-years could still hear them even after they shut the bathroom door. 

Daichi pressed Suga against the sink, and somehow managed to get the other’s butt perched on the sink counter. The giggles had returned, and they couldn’t hold them back as they struggled to position themselves comfortably. 

“We’re kissing!” Suga cackled into his palm, eyes lidded with his buzz.

Daichi snickered and put his face close enough that they were almost touching lips. “No, we’re not.” They stayed like that for a moment, breath puffing against each other’s faces, both of them smelling the gasoline-like stink of the tequila and the sharpness of the lime. Then Daichi moved the half-centimeter forward and claimed the ashy-haired boy’s lips and Suga squeaked as if it was the most exciting thing in the world.

“Now we are.” Daichi whispered.

They did that for awhile, a couple of minutes, a few seconds, neither of them having a good grasp on how drunk time passed. They just explored each other. Neither of them had said it aloud but they both could feel that this was something new for the two of them. They both were unsure and sloppy and using far too much saliva and tongue, but it didn’t matter. One, because they were fifteen-years-old and shit-faced. Two, they didn’t care. They were just kissing each other, and maybe they had wanted to do this since they first met each other in the Karasuno gym at their first practice. 

Maybe.

Daichi moaned, sometime later, and pulled away. “Ugh.”

“Hm?” Suga’s fingertips traced along the other’s jaw, cheeks, and neck. His skin was moist, clammy and kind of cold, and the flush from the liquor was gone. Suga, even though he was the farthest thing from sober, still could decipher that there was an issue. “You okay?”

“No…” Daichi closed his eyes, and immediately they shot open more violently than Suga had ever seen him do. Suga, even if he was sober, wouldn’t have had time to react quick enough for what came next. 

Daichi’s mouth had opened, parted to breathe but instead his torso spasmed. He gagged and then a substantial amount of clearish-yellow vomit spewed all over Suga’s pants. The paler boy’s body tensed, and he scrunched up his face as he registered, with delayed reaction time, that the other had thrown-up on him. 

Daichi’s face was pale, so grossly pale, and he was just staring at Suga’s filthy lap. He was blinking and was about say something poignant and apologetic when another spasm echoed in his throat and Daichi was lunging towards the toilet and emptying his stomach full of nothing but tequila into the porcelain bowl.

Suga, still too drunk to be properly disgusted, slid off the counter and went over to his upchucking friend and let his fingers trace small circled on his back. He glided his palms along the taut shoulder blades jutting from Daichi’s skin (which felt so warm and smooth and good). Suga mumbled small, drunk nice things as Daichi continued to gag and dump his lungs out into the toilet.

A loud fist banged against the bathroom door from the outside a few moment later. “I gotta piss! Stop blowing each other and get out of there!” A chorus of laughter and a scandalized _what the fuck dude they’re literally babies_ reverberated from beyond the door.

Suga got all red, but didn’t say anything in retort back initially. He just stroked along his friend’s back and the nape of his neck and threaded his fingers through his hair. He didn’t think Daichi had heard them. He was too busy suffering. Suga just hummed for a moment and sighed. He didn’t want to talk to his team right now, but he knew he had to.

“No! Daichi’s sick.” Suga’s voice slurred just a bit as he yelled. The knocking stopped and a _dude can’t handle his tequila lol_ came through the door. Then it sounded like someone smacked someone, and then a yelp, and then a new voice said _is he okay?_

“I think so. He just needs to get it out, I think.” Suga answered, as if he knew what he was talking about.

After that, the voices sounded like they had moved away from huddling near the door. Suga felt relieved, and just enjoyed narrowing his focus back to the then and now, just worrying about comforting Daichi.

“Never again.” Daichi moaned.

“Gotta be careful.” Suga laughed, and played with Daichi’s cropped hair. 

Daichi just moaned again, resting his cheek on the toilet seat. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

“You’re the best, Suga.” Daichi lifted his head to smile, but he quickly laid it back down, his face going pale. He then burped which was followed by a pathetic-sounding whimper.

“S’okay, Daichi.” Suga leaned down, and wrapped his arms in a weird hug against the other’s back. “S’okay.”

___

This became a constant at all Karasuno volleyball parties that year: the drinking and the kissing (but thankfully not the vomiting). 

The two of them only ever did this type of thing when they were both adequately and sloppily hammered. They never said a word about any of this outside of the parties, when they were sober, when everything wasn’t spinning in their line of sight.

The two of them talked about their hook-ups when they were drunk. And that was it.

Like that time in August when they went to Asahi’s house and ended up playing spin the bottle. At some point, the spinning, empty bottle of cheap white wine decided that Suga had to kiss Asahi. While that was happening, Daichi had taken a snapchat of the two first-years pecking each other on the lips and sent it to Suga (and accidentally to his snap story which the rest of the team thought was hysterical). The caption read _asahis lucky why wasn’t it meee???_

Suga when he sat back down checked his phone after it vibrated with the notification. When he saw the snap Suga leered over at the brunette from across the circle. He winked and took a picture of his face close up. Daichi’s phone buzzed not a minute later.

 _it was you last time_ was printed right below Suga’s flirty, fucked-up smirk. 

Daichi’s response: _can it be me again?_

Suga, with a black-and-white filter: _please. now_

And then they both simultaneously stood up and went up the stairs, away from the group and the whole team. They started to catcall them (except Asahi because they were heading towards his bedroom and he looked so defeated about that).

And it always was something like this. Every single time.

The team, as much as they made fun of them during, never brought it up outside of the parties. It was kind of an unspoken thing. Sawamura and Sugawara made out with each other when they got trashed. There was nothing else to it.

Both of the first years in question still continued their lives as normal for the rest of the school year. They still studied, walked and practiced together. But none of them brought up their alcohol-induced escapades. Not the kisses, the touches, the flirty exchanges. Not the words they mumbled in each other’s ears. Not the _you’re so cute_ ’s or the _i want you to kiss me_ ’s or even the _i like you so much_ ’s. They didn’t even text each other the morning after, while they were hungover and miserable and just desperate to have the other one there to suffer with them. It was like those things didn’t happen; they were brushed off as nonexistent, maybe things that happened in dreams. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t any tension between them.

No, that tension was something else. 

Sometimes, after a winning match, one of them would hold a hug a beat too long. Or one of them would find themselves staring at the other’s mouth. Or they’d brush their shoulder’s and hands together “accidentally” when they were walking home. 

There were a lot of times that they wanted to just casually bring up their ‘activities’ to each other, to maybe beat around the bush until the part where they had had their tongues down each other’s throats came up in conversation. But that never happened. They were both too nervous. 

The same fear gnawed in both of their guts for the better part of that school year. What if this only worked when they were drunk? What if they were just hammered hookup-pals? Was this sustainable outside of parties? The anxiety and repressed feelings just kept building up after every sip of liquor and every kiss. Several months of this kind of mounting tension had its consequences.

It had gotten to the point where Daichi started wishing he could be perpetually drunk. Where he wanted them both to be shit-faced forever, because that meant that he could kiss Suga. Daichi had even been moved to stealing sips of wine from his parents’ stash just so he could muster up the courage to call Suga on those late weekend nights when they weren’t together. For Suga, it also escalated to where he even offered his house up for the team to use for a party, just so he could have Daichi’s mouth on his neck and have him tell him how cute his birthmark was. He let his parents scold him and take away his laptop because it was worth it if it was for Daichi. And obviously their school assignments suffered from the excessive drinking and all the regret and longing. 

Also all of this of course had affected their chemistry on the court. And everyone noticed. 

But Asahi was the one who actually said something about it. 

When Daichi eventually told him this story, Suga had immediately texted the gentle giant about twenty heart emojis and a message that read _I treasure you_.

 _Asahi was a good egg_ , Suga thought fondly. 

___

“Daichi… are you and Suga a thing?”

It was a Thursday and they were at practice after school. Daichi had been retying his shoe when Asahi had come up to him and asked that question. Daichi’s entire body had stiffened. He stared up at the spiker with a genuine look of fear in his eyes, which caused Asahi to frown. 

“No, why?”

Asahi squatted down next to his friend. “You two obviously like each other.”

Daichi averted his eyes.

“You two spend every moment of every day together.”

Daichi’s face burned. Also, Asahi was being a little too loud…

“We all see it.” Asahi continued, still speaking with the same volume. “We all know. We see it here, in class, at parties.”

“It’s, uh, just a thing at parties I guess…”

“Wait…” Asahi’s voice, _thank god_ , dropped a decibel or two. “You guys don’t do… any of that outside of them?” Asahi’s eyes widened.

Daichi shook his head.

“I don’t get it. You guys are perfect together…” Asahi twisted his mouth as he tried to make sense of the other’s words.

The fact that Asahi was having such a difficult time wrapping his head around this was making Daichi kind of uncomfortable. “I don’t think Suga likes me like that-“

“No, hold on. Sorry, you’re wrong,” Asahi furrowed his brow apologetically. He looked like he was having an internal debate, but eventually one side won out and the long-haired boy leaned in and whispered. 

“Last weekend, when we were at my house, before you two started… uh, making out on my couch… Suga and I were talking. He was a little drunk at that point, and he just kept saying how much he liked you.” Asahi twisted his mouth, clearly looking guilty about what he was about to say and then added even quieter, “then he started crying.”

“What- why?!”

Asahi scratched the back of his head. “Because, dunno, he really likes you? And he’s convinced it’s only a thing when you guys are wasted.”

Daichi’s heart sunk. He searched around the court until he located that ashen-haired boy. He was grinning, volleying with the captain, chatting excitedly about something. He looked so happy - he looked so _cute_ when he was happy. Daichi couldn’t picture that smile gone and replaced by a splotchy, tear-streaked face full of misery. He just couldn’t. But it had happened. He’d never felt so guilty in his life.

Daichi had been quiet for a bit until the other spiker cleared his throat. It snapped his attention right back. 

“So?”

Daichi blinked. “What?”

“Is that how you feel?”

Daichi couldn’t swallow. He felt small and incredibly inadequate. “I… I thought - Suga felt the way that he thought I felt.” Daichi winced at his own lack of eloquence. 

“I don’t want to be mean,” Asahi interrupted with a nervous shrug, “but you two are being idiots.”

 _When had Asahi become so straightforward? And mean?_ Daichi stiffened. “Uh…” He couldn’t exactly disagree, but still. “It’s complicated…”

“I’m sure if you walked over to him right now and kissed him he wouldn’t stop you.”

Daichi blanched. “In front of everyone?”

Asahi flushed, but rolled his eyes. “You tried shoving your hand down his pants when we were sitting next to each other last weekend.” Daichi turned crimson and tried to spit out an apology, but Asahi cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t think anyone would care. But honestly, you could do anything you wanted to do to him and he’d probably love it.”

Daichi nodded, absentmindedly, not really listening to the rest of Asahi’s words. He was still stuck on the idea of Suga crying because of how much he wanted them to be together. Suga, caring about him. Suga, wanting them to _date_ , maybe. Suga, _liking_ him. Confirmation that maybe this could be a thing. More than just a party-thing.

Maybe he’d finally get to know what Suga’s mouth tasted like. For real, without any alcohol. 

After a moment he smiled at Asahi and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what…?” Mild confusion etched on his face, but then it started to warm up into a gentle grin. “Are you going over there?”

“Nah, you’ll see.”

And then they both returned to practice.

Awhile later, when the whole team was packing away the equipment and cleaning the gym, one of the second years asked, “Are we doing anything tomorrow night?”

‘We should. We had a good week. So, why not?” The captain answered, as he moved the net back into the closet.

“Yo, Suga!” The second year who asked the question yelled. The aforementioned first-year stopped collecting the volleyballs and looked up, clearly taken off-guard. 

“Yeah?”

“Can we come over tomorrow? Your basement is the best place to hang. ”

Suga blinked, and started to fidget with a volleyball he was holding. His mouth was slightly curling into an uncomfortable smile, and Daichi swore he could see him plotting something, see him preparing to have his parents ground him again. It made Daichi’s stomach squirm. 

“I mean, I supp-“

“No.” Daichi interrupted. He had stopped mopping, and was looking straight at Suga. “He can’t.”

The entire team turned to look at the first year. Daichi didn’t mean to appear so rude or draw that much attention. He didn’t even mean to speak. It just kind of happened. _Dammit_.

This hadn’t been part of his plan. But, he wasn’t opposed to improvising. If he could do it on the court he definitely could do it now.

The second year snorted with a distasteful expression. “Hey, let Suga talk for himself.”

“But he’s busy tomorrow night. He can’t go.”

Suga looked confused. His mouth was in a line, clearly out of the loop. He looked at Daichi questioningly, and licked his bottom lip before saying rather cautiously, “Daichi, I don’t-“

“I can’t go tomorrow either.” The brunette blurted, his face turning pink. _Okay_. He could do this. He knew Suga felt the same way. So why was this so difficult? “I…” he swallowed, and did his best to keep eye contact with the still confused setter. His grip on his mop tightened. “I…”

“Daichi, shut up.” One guy yelled.

“No! Hold on.” He took a deep breath, and let that exhale spread through his bones, keeping him grounded. “You have to find another place. I’m taking Suga out on a date tomorrow.”

The whole gym was silent. Everyone was staring at the two first years in both incredulity and rising-excitement.

_Oh my fucking god._

Daichi wanted to throw up when he saw Suga’s expression. It was blank. Completely blank. Like vodka: absolutely clear of anything. Suga was gripping the volleyball in his hands hard, he could see the way his knuckles were white, the way his fingers clenched. Was Suga… mad? Embarrassed? Did he just fuck up and ruin everything? Was Asahi an idiot? Or, had he just lied to spite him for groping Suga on his couch or…

“Yeah.”

Daichi wanted to vomit, but for a different reason this time. 

Suga’s face was beaming. He looked… happy. That was definitely the wrong word for his expression. He was so much more than that. He was hugging the volleyball to the chest, his smiling growing bigger and bigger. _Was Suga shaking?_ Daichi couldn’t tell from the distant.

“Yeah.” Suga repeated. Then, he started walking towards Daichi, moving really quickly, determined, almost jogging. He dropped the volleyball on the way, and he left it to bounce and roll away as he stood in front of Daichi, his eyes glittering in a way that was just so _Suga_. “We’re going on a date.”

When Suga said that, Daichi could see his mouth pronouncing the words so deliberately, as if he was savoring each syllable.

“I’ll pick you up at 7.” Daichi breathed, not missing a beat.

The entire team cheered, whooping and hollering and high-fiving and screaming _finally!!!_ Asahi looked at peace.

Suga, in front of him, was flushed. But it wasn’t from embarrassment, he was positive. His hand, shaky and pale, reached out and grabbed Daichi’s hand, and held it. 

It was warm.

They were both fifteen. And they were going on a date. 

___

That’s when they started their date nights. That Friday. Even though it wasn’t an ideal ‘how-we-got-together’ story, Suga still was thankful that they even had one of those stories to tell.

They were still at practice. Suga smiled to himself as he tossed a ball to Tanaka, who then spiked it over the net with his usual battle cry. 

The setter looked over to Daichi, who was volleying with Hinata, helping him practice his still-terrible receives. Suga watched them for a moment. When Hinata bumped the ball and it suddenly veered harshly to the left and across the gym and the little first-year sprinted to retrieve it, Suga whistled to catch the captain’s attention.

Daichi turned his head and saw Suga. He grinned back, all teeth and crinkled eyes. The setter winked at him. He picked up a new ball and gestured with it, and Daichi nodded. Suga then bumped it over to the brunette. Daichi held his arms out in front of him, moved to where it was heading and returned it with a playful smile, and Suga got himself ready to receive it.

Yep, he definitely was thankful that they had one.

Even if they had been idiots. And definitely still were.

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of want to make this into a series, so yeah. i will. maybe write some date nights. maybe some third-year sexiness. maybe more teenage angst. i dunno it'll happen.
> 
> find me crying over volleyball here http://bishounen-curious.tumblr.com


End file.
